


i dwell in possibility

by sonicenvy



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Drabble Collection, F/M, Force-Sensitive Leia Organa, Gen, Leia Organa-centric, Twin Swap AU, basically this is a compilation of a bunch of my little AUs that ill never finish, can u tell im a lit major yet?, catch me posting fic at 3AM yet again, i also linked to all the poems that i used for titles because i want more folks to read medieval lit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2019-10-13 05:14:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17481884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonicenvy/pseuds/sonicenvy
Summary: a collection of loose star wars AUs, mostly reposted from my pillowfort, and mostly leia centric, because there is never enough leia centric fic imho. title of the fic is froman emily dickinson poem





	1. Give me, Lord of the Skies, victory and true belief so that I might cut down this dispenser of crimes

**Author's Note:**

> i dont own star wars (tragically). i am only playing in george lucas' sandbox in my small spare time.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> vader is crazy and obsessive and leia organa is just confused. title is from [the anglo saxon heroic poem judith](https://anglosaxonpoetry.camden.rutgers.edu/judith/)

This was easily the most surreal conversation that Leia Organa had ever had. 

 

“You want to kill the Emperor?” Leia asked, incredulous.

 

Vader sat, stiff and silent. Leia had the feeling that he was not ignoring her question — rather he was deep in consideration, trying to carefully choose his next words. This in and of itself was unusual; Vader was known for his brusque manner and blunt way of speaking.

 

“My master is ...” Vader said, trailing off, seemingly unsure of how to continue. 

 

Why was he making such an effort to curtail his thoughts? He had her in this cell; the likelihood of her making it out of this alive was slim to none. She had accepted the inevitability of her death hours ago. 

 

“I have no interest in seeing you dead senator,” said Vader.

 

Leia startled, “How...?” 

 

“You are not doing very much to shield your thoughts Senator. It would do you well to hide yourself better.”

 

Leia didn’t know what to say. It sounded like Vader was giving her advice. This was all  _so_  confusing.

 

“What motivation do you have for keeping me alive?” Leia asked.

 

“You are of far stronger character than all of your peers, and too interesting to die now,” said Vader.

 

“You don’t want me to die because I’m interesting?” She wasn’t sure whether she should be insulted or flattered.

 

“Yes,” said Vader.

 

“Thanks,” said Leia acerbically, “I think.”

 

“You are also force sensitive,” said Vader.

 

Leia’s stomach dropped, “I —“ she said, “That’s Impossible. I can’t be. The Empire tests everyone at birth. I ...”

 

“You were born  _with_  the Empire,” said Vader.

 

“Yes.” There was something there, but Leia couldn’t put a finger on it.

 

“I knew you were force sensitive the first time I met you,” said Vader, “You gave yourself away.”

 

“You didn’t tell anyone.”

 

“No.”

 

Leia didn’t know what to say. She had a terrible feeling about all of this; she felt sick to her stomach and dizzy with confusion.


	2. who bears these burdens?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> everyone and their mother has done a luke - leia switch fic; this is mine. i _might_ continue this one into a fully fledged fic. title is from [the exeter book riddles.](https://anglosaxonpoetry.camden.rutgers.edu/exeter-book-riddles/)

Something strange passed over Aunt Beru’s face, and her whole presence felt more closed than it had ever been. 

 

“Play the message again Leia,” Aunt Beru said, voice firm and commanding.

 

Leia nodded at Artoo and the little droid replayed the message. The ghostly blue figure of the young prince crackled to life again and his voice filled every corner of the silent room, loud and sure, despite the sense of dread that clouded around the message.

 

“General Kenobi,” the prince’s voice said, “My name is Prince Luke Organa. Years ago you served my Father in the clone wars. Now he begs you to help him in his struggle against The Empire. I regret that I am unable to present his request to you in person, but my ship has fallen under attack and I'm afraid my mission to bring you to Alderaan has failed. I have placed information vital to the survival of the Rebellion into the memory systems of this R2 unit. My father will know how to retrieve it. You must see this droid safely delivered to him on Alderaan. This is our most desperate hour. Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi. You're my only hope.”

  
The prince looked around, frightened and then the message cut out. Seconds later it fizzled back on again and started anew.

 

“Turn it off,” Uncle Owen said, his familiar gruff voice hard and unyielding.

 

Again, Leia nodded at Artoo and the image faded out.

 

Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru were looking at one another, having some kind of silent argument, one that Aunt Beru was, by Leia’s estimation definitely winning. Finally they turned back to face Leia and Han. There was something infinitely sad in Aunt Beru’s face. 

 

“I always knew that you would be leaving Tatooine for good Leia,” she said, “I thought I was prepared for it, but…” she trailed off. 

 

If she had been anyone else, she would have been crying. Aunt Beru took in a steadying breath and then said, “We all need to leave here.”

 

“All of us?” Leia asked.

 

“Yes,” said Aunt Beru, “The Empire is no doubt hunting down these droids as we speak. I’m certain that they will track them to us before the second sun is set.”

 

“That soon?” Han asked.

 

“If the information in this little droid is as important to the rebellion as this prince says it is, The Empire can hardly afford to let the rebellion get their hands on it. You both know well that the Empire is ruthless in the pursuit of their goals,” Aunt Beru said.

 

“You Aunt is right,” said Uncle Owen, “She and I can be ready in a standard hour. You need to pack up everything of importance now Leia; we won’t be returning here again.”

 

To hear Uncle Owen say that they would be abandoning their moisture farm — his life’s work, so casually was shocking to Leia. He’d spent days and days, months and months trying to convince her to come back to the farm and leave her smuggling work and Han behind. He had always told her that farming was the safest, best option for her and now… Now Uncle Owen was ready to just give it up?

 

She must have given away her confusion because Aunt Beru spoke up, “We’ve been ready to leave at a moment’s notice for years now dear,” she said, “We knew exactly what kind of danger we were in when we started working with the freedom trail.” 

 

“And when we took you in,” said Uncle Owen.

 

“What?” Leia asked, now breathless with confusion, “What danger could I have been for you?”

 

The freedom trail, Leia understood. She knew that the Darklighters, the Banois and the Nightrunners were all involved in the freedom trail. She just hadn’t expected that Aunt Beru and Uncle Owen were. They might have been Taala, but they had always been the kind of people who kept their heads down and their noses clean. At least — that was what she had always known. But now… She suddenly felt that she didn’t know her Aunt and Uncle at all. 

 

She couldn’t possibly imagine a reason why she would have presented any kind of danger to Aunt Beru and Uncle Owen. She was just Leia Skywalker-Whitesun, Taala, daughter of a small-time spacer, niece of simple moisture farmers. 

 

Aunt Beru sent Uncle Owen a sharp look, “We don’t have time to get into any of this,” she said, “Go. Pack your things,” there was no give in her voice, so Leia did as she was told.


	3. Keeping cheery, we vowed quite often that none but death could separate us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> luke and leia have been bound together for the whole of their lives, and nothing could truly cut that bond. title is from [the wife's lament](https://anglosaxonpoetry.camden.rutgers.edu/the-wifes-lament/)

Luke hadn’t spoken with Leia in nearly four days. That in itself wasn’t terribly unusual; what was worrying was the emotional turmoil he’d been feeling from her over the last month. Every time he’d tried to broach the subject with her she’d skillfully redirected their conversation, changing the scenery or distracting him with interesting mechanical problems. She had never been this secretive or closed off with him. He was worried for her, and his worry was beginning to wash over into his regular, waking life. Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru had both noticed that Luke was distracted and had called him out on it. His friend Keila had noticed, but knew better than to ask, letting him brood instead; but he could feel the frustration and grief dripping off of her – she was hurt that he wouldn’t confide in her. Even Biggs, with his somewhat more limited ability for reading people had noticed. 

 

Luke wished he could talk to someone about his anxieties, but he knew that wasn’t an option; they would all think him crazy. He had only told someone about Leia once. When he was six standard years old he’d told Aunt Beru about his very best friend, the girl in his head and his dreams. Aunt Beru had felt bemused and fondness for him was leeching off of her; she’d proceeded to greet an imaginary Leia. It had been clear to Luke, even then that Aunt Beru thought that Leia was an imaginary friend. But Luke knew better. He knew with the same unwavering certainty that he knew Tatooine had two suns and three moons that Leia was real. He hadn’t been able to explain this feeling of certainty to Aunt Beru then, and now, at nineteen he still didn’t think he could. His certainty about Leia’s existence had to be  _felt_. So, Luke held his tongue and suffered in silence. 

 

He hoped that Leia was okay, but knowing what she  _really_  did, there was a very real chance that she wasn’t. He was up the hill, fixing one of the vaporators when he came to the realization that he was angry with  _her_. They didn’t keep secrets. Ever. And suddenly she was holding back on him? If she didn’t want to talk to him, he wasn’t going to talk to her. In his frustration he’d been distracted from the task at hand and had managed to further break the stupid vaporator; Uncle Owen was going to kill him.  

 

Luke let off a string of nasty Huttese curses under his breath and dropped the broken pieces of the vaporator into the sand. He paced around, stewing in his frustration. He was angry with Leia’s radio silence and he was angry about the stupid vaporator, and still fresh from yet another fight with Uncle Owen about leaving the farm for the Imperial Naval Academy. His stewing was interrupted by the feeling of Leia’s presence; she was attempting to get his attention by giving him the mental equivalent of a tap on the shoulder. Now she wanted to talk?  _Tough Luck_ , Luke thought, doing his novel best to ignore her. Unfortunately, Leia was just as stubborn as he was; her mental tap got stronger and stronger, more and more difficult to ignore. Then, Luke heard her call out to him. 

 

“Luke!” she called out, voicing ringing in his head loud and full of terror. 

 

Her presence flared, almost drowning him in her fear; she felt like an open wound, gushing and painful. Grudgingly, Luke let her in, and the pain was swallowed up by the void of the galaxy between them. His anxieties twisted and danced with her mounting fear until the two were inseparable without clear end or beginning. 

 

In their shared mindscape, they were standing in a field of flowers, next to a briskly flowing, burbling creek, woods and mountains around them. The setting was as familiar to Luke as his own room at his aunt and uncle’s farm, though he’d never once been there – the field was one of Leia’s favorite places on her home planet of Alderaan, and a favorite meeting ground of theirs. Now, they stood on opposite sides of the creek, unmoving. The sounds of the birds and the bugs were missing. In the sky above a storm was brewing, angry grey clouds darkening and threatening a torrential downpour. Luke had never once experienced rain, but Leia was intimately familiar with storms, so Luke knew them just as well. Luke was dimly aware of his body sitting in front of the broken vaporator, the irritating grains of sand coming into his shoes and his trousers, but most of his mind was here in the field. Ordinarily, this place was warm and comforting but the fear, anger and tension between them was too sharp, loud and pointed for it.  

 

There were tears streaming down Leia’s face; she sobbed silently, and Luke was unable to move, to cross the creek and comfort her. This was the most distressed he had ever seen or felt Leia. His legs felt heavy and stuck together and his lips wouldn’t part. The dead silence between them was crushing him. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Leia moved, wiping away her tears and taking a few loud stuttering breaths.  

 

“I’ve been captured,” she said, “by the Empire.” 

 

He still couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. 

 

“It’s funny you know,” she said, letting out a small, watery laugh, “I was orbiting Tatooine when they captured my ship. I was closer to you than I’ve ever been.” 

 

She quirked a smile and then continued, “I’m sorry that I haven’t been communicating with you very well over the last month. I want you to know that Luke.” 

 

There was something in her voice then, some sense of pressing finality.  

 

“I am going to be executed,” she said.  

 

Then, she took a deep breath, her body rocking, feet sinking into the mud at the bank of the creek. He noticed that she wasn’t wearing any shoes. 

 

“I am not afraid to die Luke,” she said, “I knew what I was getting into when I joined the rebellion; I am ready to die for the cause.” 

 

She sounded so steady and sure, creating a strange dissonance with the tears that were still streaming down her face. He wished that he could say something, anything to her. He didn’t want her to die. 

 

“The Empire is doubtlessly sending someone to come and interrogate me soon enough.” 

 

Here interrogate was almost certainly the cleaner way of referring to torture. Even though Luke lived outside of the purview of the Empire, he’d heard the rumors about imperial “interrogations” on more than one occasion while in town at Tosche Station. The thought of that happening to Leia made him feel sick to his stomach.  _What have you gotten into this time?_  he thought. 

 

“We stole the plans for this huge weapon that the Empire has built. It’s a space station that can theoretically destroy entire planets,” she said, answering his unasked question.  

 

She briefed him on her situation with a flat voice, at odds with the waves of loud, difficult to read emotions that were leeching off of her. She finished her explanation of the situation in under two and half standard minutes.  

 

“I placed the plans for the Death Star in the care of my two loyal droids C-3PO and R2-D2 and sent them to the surface of Tatooine in an escape pod. I was hoping that you could find them and see them safely to my parents on Alderaan,” she said. 

 

“You can’t die,” he said, uncaring of how petulant he sounded. 

 

She gave him an almost patronizing look of pity, “I am not afraid to die Luke, especially if my death means the destruction of this station.” There was no give in her voice, “Can you find my droids and bring them to Alderaan?” 

 

A lump rose in his throat, and he couldn’t speak, so he nodded weakly instead. She smiled at him, and, for a moment, the sun poked through the storm clouds above them. This was the eye of the storm. He took a deep breath studying her face again. She had stopped crying completely now, and the remnants of her tears had dried on her face, though her eyes were still red.  

 

“There’s something else that you need me to do,” he said. 

 

“Yes.” 

 

He would do anything for her; he hoped that she knew that, “What do you need?” 

 

She closed her eyes for a moment, and a bright light surrounded her body. When it had vanished, she was holding a small intricately carved box in her hands. The box rattled ominously. 

 

“I need you to keep this safe for me,” she said. 

 

He was still unable to move. She stepped into the flowing water of the creek. The bottom of her skirt was wetted by the water, and it must have been cold, because she shivered for a moment. She held to box out to him, arms trembling.  

 

“What is it?” he asked, staring at it. 

 

“Everything that I know about the rebellion,” she said. 

 

“You’ll forget all of it when I take this won’t you?”  

 

“Yes. I’ve heard of the strange powers that Darth Vader has. He can pull things from your head, search through your memories and find what he wants to know.” 

 

Luke shivered. The only person that he could ever imagine poking through his thoughts and memories was Leia. To have a foreign mind inside your own? The feeling of nausea that had swooped through him earlier imagining Leia’s  _interrogation_  returned with a vengeance. He took the box from Leia’s hands with a featherlight touch, holding it as though it were a glass of water, precious and delicate. Her eyes fluttered closed and she let out an audible breath.  

 

“Goodbye Luke,” Leia said, eyes rimmed with tears. The weight of finality hung on her words.  

 

Leia stepped backwards out of the creek, returning to the opposite bank of the creek. The sky above opened up and it began to pour rain in thick sheets. The creek doubled in size and he could no longer make out Leia’s face. Around them, her voice echoed. 

 

“I’m sorry.” 

 

The ground beneath his feet began to tremble. He clutched Leia’s box to his chest, determined not to drop it. Then, with no warning, the ground opened up below him, and he was swallowed by it. 

 

First, there was darkness. Then. Water. He was underwater. He had never been underwater in his life, but Leia had, and her memories were providing all of the sensations. He freed a single hand and tried in vain to paddle his way upwards out of the water. His lungs burned and he ached to breath, knowing all the while that if he opened his mouth he would drown. The water pushed him down and his arm tired. A ripple washed through the water and the lid to the box in his arm was forced open. Suddenly, he was assaulted by memory after memory, a dizzying slideshow he couldn’t keep up with. His head ached and ached, but the images continued. His lungs burned; he couldn’t keep holding his breath, and he opened his mouth letting the water fill his lungs. Was this what dying felt like? He choked, and tried to paddle up, tried to focus. His mind burned with images and his lungs with water. Then there was nothing. 

 

 

The next thing he was aware of was grains of sand rubbing against his skin. His eyes fluttered open and he was firmly held in his body, sitting in front of the broken vaporator. Before, it had been high noon, the two suns above at the height of their respective arcs across the expanse of the sky. Now, the sky was a violent orange and the second sun was sinking below the horizon. How long had he been here? He could feel that his skin was burnt, and his fingers blistered. His head still felt cottony and his lungs still felt as though they were burning. 

 

What had happened? He had been talking to Leia. She’d been crying. Usually, he had no problem remembering what had happened in the worlds between their minds, but now he was struggling to get a clear picture. He remembered a storm, and grief, sickening, never ending grief. 

 

_I am not afraid to die Luke_ _. _

 

The droids! Leia had been captured and … and … she needed him to find a pair of droids. When he strained his memory further, he found a picture of them, but the memory was distinctly other. This was Leia’s memory. As he shuffled through his own memories, trying to piece together their conversation, he noticed that his mind was uncomfortably full.  

 

Then. The sensation of the weight and warmth of the rattling box of Leia’s memories returned to him. Leia’s memories! His mind was filled with Leia’s memories. First, they were memories of the rebellion, codes, names, places, operations. Then. There were memories that had nothing to do with the rebellion.  

 

He was looking at himself through Leia’s eyes. They were sitting, cross legged in the grass in their clearing, sharing a picnic. She was watching eat booda berries, stuffing his face with the juicy, cold fruits and she laughed at him. He’d blushed, cheeks flaming red, and she said something that he couldn’t quite hear.  

 

She’d forgotten him. She’d made herself forget him. Not just her rebellion, but the entirety of their friendship.  

 

_I’m sorry_.

 

Her voice echoed around his head, looping in an out. She’d spoken the words in Taal. There had been a single tear trickling down her cheek. 

 

_I’m sorry_ _._


	4. to take arms against a sea of troubles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> little leia organa experiences some of the less than pleasent side-effects of force sensitivity, and has an out of body experience in the process. title is from [hamlet](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/56965/speech-to-be-or-not-to-be-that-is-the-question)

Leia Organa was nine years old. This year, mama and papa had decided that she would be attending their Empire Day Gala. Leia hated Empire Day and the marches and galas; they intruded on her birthday celebrations. She’d spent the entire morning under the watchful eyes and careful hands of mama’s crew of stylists. They picked out a fancy dress to have her wear and made her hair up in a fancier updo than she had ever worn. They even put some makeup on her face. Leia hated it all. The dress was uncomfortable and the shoes even more so. The women fluttered around her telling her how pretty she looked, but when she looked at herself in the mirror, a stranger stared back at her. This was the opposite of a birthday gift.

Being all dressed up meant that she wouldn’t be able to run off and play with the cook’s children in the gardens or run out to the garage to tinker with her swoop bike or the droid she was building. She wouldn’t be able to go swim in the creek with the servants’ children like she had last year and the year before. Instead she would have to go to the stupid Empire Day Gala and spend the evening being nice to grownups she didn’t like and surrounded by so many people that she would be deafened and end up with a pounding headache.

She remembered all too clearly the last Gala she’d attended, the annual Bandé festival gala. She’d gone running away to the fresher after only an hour because it was so loud with people’s feelings and thoughts. She hadn’t even been able to find herself in all of the chaos, not that mama and papa had understood that. She loved them, but sometimes they were so frustrating! They didn’t hear things or see things like her. She Knew she wasn’t crazy, but it still stung that her parents didn’t believe her or understand.

She entered the main dining hall of the palace with mama and papa, doing her best to emulate their cool, collected and distant expressions. Even out in the hall she could already feel and hear the mass of people within it. She took a few deep breaths.

“Are you nervous sweetheart?” Mama asked, “You don’t have to be. Papa and I will be at your side the entire time.”

That was exactly what Leia didn’t want. She was hoping to find an opening to rush off and run as far away from the hall as possible, so she could be alone.

“I’m fine mama,” said Leia, “I’m not nervous.”

Leia got the feeling that mama thought she was lying.

Papa tightening his grip on Leia’s hand and together they entered the hall.

It was unbearably loud; thoughts and feelings of the attendees layering on top of the usual whispering voices of the universe. Leia couldn’t hear herself think.

The people were afraid. Not of her and mama and papa. There was something else. Her eyes were drawn to the front of the room. A dais that she had never seen before was set up at the high table in the place that was ordinarily mama and papa’s. Seated at the throne was a man she had never met in person but who everyone knew one way or another: the emperor. He felt completely different than anyone she had ever met in her small life. He was all at once loud and quiet. The emperor was trying his best to hide himself, but he had a stronger presence than everyone else and it couldn’t be smothered. Moreover, he was a veritable hole of inky darkness. Ribbons of it snaked out of him grabbing onto everything else around him, attempting to drag it in and drown it. Leia could feel his tongues of inky darkness slithering around her, trying to pull her in and she held firm, meeting the golden eyes of the emperor as she bowed to him. She was only peripherally aware of everything else in the room now that she was caught by the presence of the Emperor.

Leia tried to reach for him and read him like she did everyone else and found herself hitting a wall — no, a maze of walls. She imagined herself a goddess towering over Alderaan and looking down at the Emperor’s maze of walls and she picked through them, searching for the pulsing center. The closer she got the louder his nasty voice got. Still she plodded forwards, panting all the way. Her physical body was clammy and cold, drenched in sweat.

Finally. She reached the center. A black hole swirled loudly and a dark-haired woman stood in front of it. Leia had seen her face before in a dream. She had seen that face many times in her dreams and it was always filled with grief and tears. Now however, the woman had a grim smile on her face.

“I’m proud of you Leia,” she said, “You grow stronger and more perceptive every day. I wish I could have been able to see it all.”

There, again was that deep grief and regret, tasting exactly like those old hard candies that her aunts kept in dishes in their parlors, stale and sickly sweet.

“What are you doing here?” Leia asked, “Who are you?”

The woman didn’t speak. She only smiled, pushing out more grief and regret.

Then, “I love you Leia, and I am trying to keep watch over you as best as I can. I’ve already failed you once and I can’t bear to do it again. Are you certain that you want to see what’s behind me? Are you certain that you can keep a tight hold on yourself and never lose it?”

“I—” said Leia, meeting the woman’s eyes. It suddenly occurred to her that the woman had the same hair and the same nose as she did.

Leia studied the woman’s face, tracing the line of it. This was the longest glimpse she had ever gotten of it.

“You’re my mother,” she breathed, solid and sure. She wasn’t sure where this knowledge, this certainty came from – it just was.

“You’re so clever Leia. I am so proud of you,” the woman, her mother, her mother said.

“I want to see why the Emperor is here,” said Leia.

The woman smiled again, and this time she stepped closer to Leia and pressed a kiss to her forehead, leaving behind a lip print in the red lipstick she wore.

“Don’t lose yourself in there looking for answers,” her mother said, “find what you want to find and get out.”

Leia nodded, “I promise,” she said, “I won’t forget myself.”

Leia had the strangest feeling that the lip print on her forehead was something  _more_ , some kind of protection charm. Her mother stepped away disappearing into the fog around her. Leia was alone. The lip print on her forehead pulsed with warmth and Leia stared into the black hole, squaring her shoulders. She  _needed_  to know why the emperor had come to Alderaan.


	5. don't look too good, nor talk too wise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the ROTS never happened & also Han is force sensitive AU. maybe it needs more context than yall are getting ??? idk. anyways.... chapter title is from If, by Rudyard Kipling. (a shitty dude but a cool poem)

Han woke up, head pounding and vision blurring. Where was he? The last thing he remembered was freeing all of Nakio Kuba’s _cargo_ from the hold of her ship. He had _some_ morals after all. He’d been setting the last of his explosives in Nakio’s ship to add to her _misfortunes_ , and, more importantly, to keep her from being able to follow him and Chewie when they made their escape from this hellhole of a planet. Screwing with Nakio had been an impulsive act more than anything else. He and Chewie had been docked in Gaaros city for almost a week now, waiting to intercept a major shipment of goods for Jabba. They had been out at some dinky cantina drinking and schmoozing their way around when he’d spotted Nakio. He’d known her a long time, and hated her for most of it, but he would have been able to leave her alone if he hadn’t overheard her discussing her _cargo_ with another being who was presumably a client of hers.

 

On principle Han Solo didn’t align himself with the Republic, or frankly, the law, but he had his limits. When one had been subjugated and made the lowest of the low, they didn’t forget the experience. Han and Chewie had both been slaves before, and had vowed to one another to never again let themselves be slaves again. There were more credits in running slaves than any other kind of cargo, but Han’s conscience, however small he claimed it to be, would never allow him to partake in that. Instead, he found himself freeing slaves from other smugglers’ ships, which, if asked, he could rationalize into a purely selfish act. Dumping the expensive cargo of his competitors would slow them down, and possibly get them killed by their respective employers, and if it settled his tiny conscience some — win-win. 

Which brought him back to the present. Wherever he was it was silent, and pitch black, and he felt fairly certain that he was alone in whatever room this was. His viroblade, his explosives and his blasters had all been stripped from him and he was chained to the wall. Worse, he was still woozy and couldn’t quite remember the sequence of events that had gotten him here. Han had a very, _very_ bad feeling about this.

 

Then. A presence, louder and brighter than any he had ever encountered in his entire life entered the room. It was still silent and still dark, but he could tell there was someone in the room with him, someone who hadn’t been there only moments before. Han had always had an uncanny sense about him for the people around him, a sense that was better than night vision in a darkened space. The presence didn’t feel malicious, but it was dangerous. Han gulped, hoping, praying that whoever had entered the room hadn’t come to kill him.

 

Suddenly, there was bright, blue light in the room. Standing not ten feet from him was a girl who couldn’t have been more than fifteen or sixteen years old, holding a lightsaber. She wore the same drab robe and armor combination that all the Jedi he’d ever seen on the holonet seemed to wear. He brown hair had been artfully put up, leaving a single strand, a braid of hair hanging to the side of her head. The tiny braid had three colored beads laced into it that glinted, even in the low light that her lightsaber was providing.

 

The girl’s eyes widened as she took him in. She closed her eyes for a moment, and let out a loud huff of hair straightening her shoulders as best as she could while maintaining stance.Then, she approached. For a moment, Han thought she might kill him with her lightsaber, but instead she used it to cut through his chain. His hands were still cuffed, and he still felt ridiculously dizzy, but his current situation _had_ just improved. The girl still hadn’t spoken a word, opting instead to pull him along with her, away from the wall. The the few links of chain that remained attached to his ankles clanked, all too loudly as he walked.

 

The Jedi girl hissed out a curse and stopped so abruptly that he wasn’t able to stop himself from colliding straight into her chest. Still, she didn’t speak to him. But something was happening. He could feel it. She was doing something, wordlessly and without moving. He tried to chase the thought, to find out what he thought he was perceived, only to hit a dead end. The sound of durasteel clanking onto the floor startled him out of his thoughts.

 

The cuffs around his hands and ankles were gone. Somehow, the girl had gotten rid of them. Han had, like anyone else in the galaxy heard the many rumors about the powers of the Jedi. Some suggested that Jedi could simply will things around them to change and it would happen. Before, he’d dismissed it as crazy talk, but now… Now, he was beginning to become a believer in the rumors.

 

Again, the girl cursed.

 

“Thanks,” he said, hoping his voice didn’t come off too awkwardly.

 

Instead of acknowledging him she said, “We have to get out of here kid, my brother has set this whole place to blow. You’re coming with me.”

 

Where did she come from calling him _kid_? She was at least two or three years his junior! His irritation with her faded as soon as the second part of her sentence hit him. The thought of the impending explosion made his stomach roil even more.

 

The girl rolled her eyes at him and dragged him behind her with her free hand. She navigated them through turn after turn in dark hallways, seemingly completely confident of her sense of direction. He hoped she knew what she was doing. On what must have been the fiftieth turn they made, there was light at the end of the tunnel, literally. The light grew closer and closer until…

 

There were other presences around them — an ambush. Jedi girl was at least five steps ahead of him already however. She’d let go of him, and now had both of her hands in play.

 

“Republic Scum!” A voice cried out, ringing louder because of the utter silence.

 

Before Han could react further, the beings surrounding them attacked. Jedi girl moved with frightening speed and it only took a few moments for the fight to be over, despite the fact that he was certain there had been six attackers. Jedi girl was panting, and even in the low light, he could see that her cheeks were flushed.

 

Now that the fight was over, he realized that their attackers hadn’t been organics at all. All six presences had been battle droids. Han could just make out the shape of one of their heads on the ground in front of him.

 

“Arm yourself,” Jedi girl said, tossing him one of the battle droids’ blasters.

 

He almost didn’t catch it.

 

“You do know how to shoot a blaster don’t you?” She said. There was a hint of something patronizing in her voice that struck him the wrong way; he bristled.

 

“Sure do sweetheart. Who do you take me for?” For extra emphasis he released the blaster’s safety.

 

She rolled her eyes at him again, “Come on then, space jockey,” she said, voice filled with an air of irritation.

 

He followed her, mostly, because he didn’t have any other options. That, and she’d just thoroughly demonstrated to him how dangerous she was.

 

Finally, they made it out of the dark tunnels and into the light. He didn’t recognize the jungle they were standing in at all. He certainly wasn’t in Garros anymore. Off in the distance he could hear the sounds of blaster fire. Ships buzzed around overhead and there were more than a few tendrils of smoke coming across the jungle.

 

Jedi girl extinguished her lightsaber and clipped it on to her utility belt.

 

“You’re going to want to stand back,” she said, “My brother says that the bunker is set to blow in thirty seconds.”

 

He wondered for a moment what kind of com she was using that was so invisible, but he didn’t have the time to consider the thought deeply because the ground beneath his feet began to shake. Jedi girl sprinted off into the jungle, and, in lieu of better options he followed her. Out of the corner of his eye Han could see flames coming out of the mouth of the bunker that they had been standing in front of only moments earlier.

 

“You okay?” Jedi girl asked him, her brown eyes searching him, filled with genuine concern.

 

“Yeah,” he said, his voice coming out far rougher than he’d expected it to.

 

“Good,” she said, then, in a complete one-eighty, “I am very interested to know who you are and what the hell you were doing down there.”

 

“Uh…” he said.

 

She stared him down, and there was something about her, about her gaze that made him shiver.

 

“Not good enough,” she hissed.

 

“I’m Han,” he said, “Han Solo.”

 

When she didn’t say anything he continued, “And this is the part where you’re supposed to say _nice to meet you Mr. Solo, My name is_. Unless… Is there some kind of secret extra steps to this dance. Like Jedi etiquette 101.”

 

“Very funny Solo,” she ground out, “But I’m the one asking the questions here.”

 

He gave her a mock curtsy and a smirk and then said, “Ask away your High and Mightyness.”

 

She closed her eyes again, and let out another, long steady breath.

 

“You know,” she said, “From where I’m looking, I just saved your ass. I think you owe me Mister Solo.”

 

“I would have gotten out of there on my own … eventually.”

 

“Sure you would have.”

 

He folded his arms and stared her down, using his height as an advantage over her. Many other beings shrank and withered under his gaze. He did, after all, have a reputation for ruining people’s days if it suited him to. Jedi girl did neither of those things. She stood, stock still studying him.

 

“You know, I’ve been calling you Jedi girl in my head this whole time,” he said, “but it would be nice to have a name to call you instead. Or… I could just go on making up names for you. Your choice really.”

 

She sighed again, and looked away from him, seemingly having found whatever it was that she was looking for in him. She didn’t look back at him as she spoke.

 

“Leia,” she said, curtly, “Leia Skywalker.”

 

Something dropped in the pit of his stomach. Skywalker. Everyone knew that name. He was that Jedi general, the one they all called “The Hero With No Fear”. He’d come from the outer rim and rumor had it, was the most powerful Jedi in all of their Order.

 

“Like Anakin Skywalker,” Han said.

 

“He’s my father,” Leia said.

 

“Oh.” Han wasn’t sure whether he was afraid or not.

 

Before their conversation could continue, a figure came out from the woods around them. He was tall, blonde, and instantly recognizable.

 

“Dad,” Leia said, smiling.

 

Anakin Skywalker crushed his daughter in a hug, smiling. When he released her and stepped back, his handsome face wrinkled into a scowl, “Stars Leia!” he said, “We were so worried. What possessed you to go into the bunker? I explicitly told you not to do that.”

 

Leia stared her father down. Intel that Luke and I got this morning suggested that the separatists had hidden information that might lead us to whoever the latest Sith Apprentice is in that bunker. I had to go and look around before we blew the whole thing up. I had to!”

 

“Please tell me it was worth it,” Anakin said.

 

“The only thing I found down there was this kid,” Leia said, jabbing a finger at Han.

 

“Look!” He said, throwing his hands up, “I have no idea how I ended up in that bunker, or why I was there. I woke up in that room only minutes before your daughter found me sir. I swear!”

 

Anakin didn’t respond to Han’s statement, instead he looked pensive, as if in deep consideration of something. Anakin turned his gaze on Leia and said, “I believe him. What do you think?”

 

Han got the feeling that the man was using this as a some kind of teaching moment for his daughter.

 

“His words feel true,” Leia said.

 

Anakin nodded.

 

“But,” Leia said, trailing off, “He knows something.” There was such conviction in her words.

 

Anakin gave Leia wide smile full of fierce, fierce pride.

 

“Whatever you people are thinking, I don’t know anything. Not about your war, not about Sith, Not— “

 

“But you do have an idea of who might have brought you to this place, don’t you?” Leia said, interrupting his increasingly frantic denials. There was something in her voice, some kind of lulling, heavy undertone. Han recognized it only because he occasionally used the same trick to convince buyers to give him a few extra credits, or to get himself out of trouble. Recognizing it made it far easier to fight back against it. The lull coming from her was strong, but he wasn’t about to tell her everything he knew, not for free at any rate.

 

“Look,” Han said, “I’ll tell you what you want to know if I can be guaranteed something in return.”

 

“What do you want kid?” Anakin asked.

 

“A ride out of here for one.”

 

“And two?” Leia asked.

 

“Haven’t decided yet. Call it an IOU for now.”

 

The two Jedi looked at each other, having some kind of strange wordless conversation before turning back to face him.

 

“We can work with that Mister Solo,” Leia said.

 

“Excellent. I’m glad we can finally find some common ground in this situation Miss Skywalker.”

 

Leia twitched at the address, as though she were itching to correct him, but at the last moment managed to stop herself.

 

Anakin poorly hid a grin. “I think I like you already kid,” he said.

 

Their moment was interrupted again as a tiny figured suddenly collided with Anakin’s body.

 

“Whoa there!” He said, laughing.

 

“Sorry,” the tiny figure, a small, blonde teenage boy, said.

 

“It’s okay kiddo. You just need to watch where you’re headed a bit more.”

 

The boy gave Anakin a sheepish grin, before straightening up.

 

“We’ve got incoming Dad!” He said, “Like another five platoons. At least, that was the last that Uncle Rex saw.”

 

“I’m not surprised,” Anakin said, looking far too weary for his age.

 

The boy turned to face Han and said, “You must be Han, the kid Leia found tied up in the bunker.”

 

“I’m nineteen years old thank you!” Han said hotly, and perhaps a bit more petulantly than he should have.

 

Anakin laughed, and then Leia and the boy joined in. Leia, Han noted had a very pretty laugh. Not that he was paying attention or anything.

 

“We’ll make time for introductions later, when we can get airborne Luke,” Anakin said.

 

“Fair enough,” the boy, Luke said.

 

With that, they were off, trudging through the forest. After walking through dirt and forest for what had felt like Eons, they were in a clearing. A camp was set up there, and there were a few Clone soldiers standing about, eating or cleaning.

 

The troopers all perked up when they saw the Skywalkers.

 

“We’ve got the separatist bunker blown,” Anakin said, “So the droid control planetside is down, which disables about half of the droids.”

 

A cheer went around the camp.

 

“Don’t get too excited now, boys,” Anakin said, “We still have at least five platoons incoming. However, I am not going to be able to stick around for the skirmish. The kids and I have more leads to follow on the trail of our mysterious Sith Lords.”

 

There was a grumble all around.

 

“We’ll be back though,” Leia said, “So don’t go missing us too much.”

 

“While we’re gone, Commander Rex is in charge.”

 

“Yessir.” All of the clones said.

 

“As you were gentlemen,” Anakin said. Then he turned to them and said, “I have a few loose ends to wrap up in the next five minutes before we head off kids.”

 

“Not a kid,” Han grumbled.

 

“So not the point,” said Leia.

 

Anakin was already gone. He and Luke and Leia Skywalker stood around the campfire in awkward silence waiting for Anakin to return. After the galaxy’s record winning longest most awkward five minutes, Anakin re-emerged from the tent that he had popped off to and re-joined them.

 

“Let’s get a move on kids,” he said.

 

Apparently their _move on_ was another _delightful_ trek through the jungle that Han was beginning to really hate. After this little adventure was finally over, Han was going to have to buy himself new boots, because the ones on his feet now were already pretty disgusting, and he shivered to think of what they would be like when this trip was over.

 

After their absolutely un-ending hike through the all too hot and sticky Jungle they made it to the entrance to a cave. He followed the three Skywalkers into the dark cave. Moments later, he was standing inside a beautiful hangar. A wide variety of high end ships were parked across the hangar, some so fancy that he had never even expected to ever be in the same hangar as them.

 

The ship that Anakin led them to was an older model, but no less slick. It was a silver Nubian ship, clearly custom built and at least fifteen years old. She was a beautiful ship; Han itched to get into the cockpit and fly the ship out of here.

 

Of course, Han still had no idea where he was and what he was doing here.


	6. There shall be the fairest of joys when they meet at the beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You need to go and help her,” Padmé said.
> 
> Her who? He wanted to ask, but this confusing dream refused him the chance to speak to Padmé.
> 
> Padmé must have somehow caught his unvoiced question however, because she said, “There’s a child here that you can save Ani.”
> 
> He could have saved all of them. He had been the one to burn the temple, to slaughter the younglings, the elders. He’d felt each of them join the force, seen the wrenching betrayal on their faces, felt it permeating the force and had pretended that he didn’t care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title is from [The Life of St. Guthlac of Crowland (Guthlac A)](https://anglosaxonpoetry.camden.rutgers.edu/guthlac-a/)

Vader was having a nightmare. The setting was a familiar one: the burning Jedi temple. Usually, in his dreams he found himself leading the clones up to the temple, but this time, inexplicably he was stuck standing in the council chambers, listening to the sounds of the massacre outside. Then, there was a scream that didn’t belong to this dream. His frozen limbs began to fill with warmth, and Padmé’s ghostly face appeared before him.

 

“Ani,” she said, looking at him, her eyes infinitely sad, like they had been the last time he’d seen them.

 

He couldn’t move his lips. His face was still frozen, his tongue caught.

 

“You need to go and help her,” Padmé said.

 

_Her who?_ He wanted to ask, but this confusing dream refused him the chance to speak to Padmé.

 

Padmé must have somehow caught his unvoiced question however, because she said, “There’s a child here that you can save Ani.”

 

He could have saved all of them. He had been the one to burn the temple, to slaughter the younglings, the elders. He’d felt each of them join the force, seen the wrenching betrayal on their faces, felt it permeating the force and had pretended that he didn’t care.

 

According to his Master, he should have reveled in the massacre. He’d told himself that he had. For a time, he believed it, but Anakin’s bleeding heart betrayed Vader in his deepest dreams.

 

“Go,” Padmé said. With her words, the warmth that had begun in his chest spread to the rest of his body, freeing his limbs. He reached out to touch her ghostly form, but it vanished under his fingertips.

 

In this dream, he was Anakin Skywalker. He could see his fingernails, and now that he was unfrozen, he could feel the tips of his hair touching his shoulders.

 

The scream rang out again, blocking out the sounds of blaster fire and lightsabers. It tugged at him, and, like the needle on a compass, he was drawn to it. HIs legs moved, carrying him out of the council chambers and down the hallways of the temple without his consent. He passed heaps of bodies, young and old. None of the clones seemed to be able to see him. Soon, he was standing in the doorway of the quarters that he had once shared with Obi-Wan. Sitting crouched on his old bunk was a tiny, brown hair girl who couldn’t have been more than six years old. The scent of scorched flesh was somehow stronger in here, though the bodies were far from here.

 

The girl was curled in on herself and she was crying, rocking back and forth. The ground beneath them began to rumble as her shoulders shook. He took a step towards her, and she jerked her head up, and the ground beneath his feet shook so hard that he nearly fell over. The girl’s face was plastered with tears, and her eyes were rimmed with red.

 

She had deep brown eyes, and there was something familiar about the child. She hadn’t been one of the Jedi younglings. He knew all of their faces, remembered where he’d cut them down. Vader studied her face, and she studied his.

 

She was Leia Organa, he realized. He’d met Viceroy Organa’s daughter once, when his Master had bade him to attend the Empire Day Celebrations at the Aldera Palace a year ago, as a show of force. To intimidate Organa, who his Master suspected was behind the burgeoning insurgency against their Empire.

 

There had been something about her that had caught his eye then; something that kept drawing him back to her. Compared to some of the other members of the Elder Houses that were in attendance, she was rather plain looking. The fact that she was an adopted member of the Organa house was starkly apparent as he observed her surrounded by her family.

 

Here, curled on his old bunk, something new struck him about Organa’s child. She was force-sensitive. No, more than that, she was powerful in the force. Power leached off of her here, unhidden, burning, burning. Possibilities stretched out in front of Vader, running by him at a dizzying speed, rendering them unintelligible. The only thing in the cacophony that was clear was that the force had brought the two of them together. He looked at her, truly looked at her and found that she was a nova in the force, brighter than anyone he had ever met: loud, cloying, drowning him. Despite her distress, she was nothing but light. The dark side was repulsed, left on the other side of the threshold. His body felt far less heavy standing in front of the girl.

 

The coat of darkness his Master had given him was laying outside.

 

“Who are you?” Leia asked him. Her scrutiny was uncomfortable, making him feel naked, exposed, as though she were looking into the depths of his soul.

 

Again, his tongue betrayed him. His mouth was dry and his tongue heavier than durasteel.

 

He shuffled closer to her. Leia Organa held her ground, unflinching. Outside, everything had gone silent, and the ground beneath them had stilled.

 

“Who are you?” She asked again. Something about the question had changed, even though the meaning was the same. She cocked her head at him waiting with growing impatience.

 

He couldn’t put a finger on what was different about her question this time.

 

A moment. Two. Leia wiped her eyes.

 

He ran her words over in his mind. _Who are you?_ _Who are you?_

 

She had spoken in Taal. There was absolutely no reason that she should know that language — she, a princess from a well-to-do core world had no business having his native tongue.

 

“Who are you?” She asked him again, in Taal. In his native tongue these words had layered and complex meaning. Leia Organa’s phrasing couldn’t properly be translated into basic, but it didn’t matter; Vader understood her meaning clearly enough.

 

Who was he? Under Leia’s gaze, Vader couldn’t find the answer. They were not in his nightmare; they were in hers he realized.

 

“Help,” he said, half-startled by the sound of his voice, almost tripping over the word. It had been so long since he’d spoken in Taal, “I can get you out of here.”

 

Vader held his hand out to her. Leia stared at him, distrust filling her face. Of course, she had every reason not to trust him. He didn’t trust himself. The force urged him forward.

 

“I can help you,” he said to her. Taal tumbled from his lips, tasting like the sweetest of Nubian wines. The last time he’d spoken his native tongue was the day his mother had died. He’d spoken to his mother in Taal as she died.

 

Finally, Leia moved towards him, and, wordlessly, she took his hand. He pulled her in his own mind.

 

They were sitting on the sandy floor of the hut he’d shard with his mother. Some of the details of it had blurred with time, making the scene hazy. He let go of her hand.

 

“I’ve been here before,” she said, looking for all the galaxy that she hadn’t intended to say that.

 

He didn’t respond, clutching his curiosity to his chest, hoping that she would confess more to him without being prompted.

 

“There’s usually this woman, Mina,” she said, “She has kind eyes and long brown-silver hair. She sings me a song after I have a nightmare.”

 

Then, she began to hum.

 

The tune was familiar, one planted in the marrow his bones, a song his mother had sung to him for as long as he could remember. It had been so hard for him to sing it without her, especially when he’d had most need of it.

 

She began to sing, and without meaning to, he joined in. At the sound of his voice, she stumbled.

 

“You know this song?” She asked.

 

She had given him a truth, one held tight to her chest. He owed her one in return.

 

“My mother sang it to me when I was a child,” he said, “she always said that it could—“

 

“Chase away nightmares,” Leia finished for him.

 

“Yes,” Vader said.

 

Before he had time to say anything else to Leia, his mother appeared in the doorway, a plate of steaming Mooja-Berry Cakes in her hand. She walked over to Leia, and proffered the cakes up to the girl. Leia grabbed two of them, stuffing one into her mouth.

 

Shmi set down the tray and plopped down next to Leia.

 

“Leila,” she said, fondly, ruffling the girl’s hair, “How are you?”

 

“I don’t know,” Leia said, “I — I guess I still feel cold, rotten.”

 

“Oh, Leila,” his mother said.

 

“I wish the dreams would stop Mina. It’s not fair that nobody else has to deal with them.”

 

“I know,” his mother said, “But wishing does not make it so.”

 

His mother had seen things in her dreams too, Vader remembered.

 

“I know,” Leia said, hanging her head, “I know Mina.”

 

“You are not alone Leila.”

 

“I’ve never been have I?” Leia said.

 

“No,” Shmi said. There was such love in her eyes. It was a look that he was familiar with. She’d looked at him like that his whole life. She’d loved him and she’d cried over him. Her smile was proud and bittersweet as she looked on Leia.

 

“I will never be alone,” Leia said, voice firm and unyielding, as though she could speak her intentions into being, making them with will alone.

 

“You were never meant to be.”

 

His mother kissed Leia on the forehead, and it was only when she pulled away that she finally noticed him. Before, she’d been looking straight through him.

 

The look in her eyes was more grief than anything else now. Grief and … and … disappointment. The love wasn’t wholly doused though; its embers still flickered in the depths of her eyes.

 

“Ani,” she said, her voice barely barely more than breath, “I waited so long to see you again. I’ve waited for you to remember how to listen.”

 

“I always wanted to see you,” he said, protesting. He had always begged the force to show him his mother and … and …

 

“You weren’t ready,” she said, “You weren’t listening. You lost yourself.”

 

Her words settled in Vader’s chest sinking, sinking. He felt uncomfortable in his skin, wanted to crawl out of it and never return. Wanted… wanted…

 

Vader wanted to rage.

 

The remembered image of Padmé’s dying face struck him, held him at bay. He couldn’t, wouldn’t make that mistake again. More than anything else, he regretted that moment.

 

The dark side whispered, hissing in a thousand tongues, urging him forward, stuffing his lungs. But, the touch of his mother’s ghostly hand chased it away and he could breathe again.

 

“Ani,” she said, looking him in the eyes, her gaze even more stripping than Leia’s had been, “You know what you have to do then, I expect.”

 

He did. _Yes Yes Yes,_ the force whispered.

 

“Yes,” he said.

 

Today, Vader was reborn.

 

Leia studied him with fascination, somehow aware that something in him had shifted.

 

“Look out for each other,” Shmi said, “Don’t forget one another.”

 

She kissed Leia’s forehead again, and she whispered, “You are brave and strong and free Leila. Don’t look back.”

 

“I promise,” Leia said. He remembered promising her the same thing. Something that had been lodged in his stomach loosened as he heard her whisper her promise to his mother.

 

Shmi said nothing to him, but her grief was enough. Then. As easily as she had appeared she vanished, leaving him alone in the room with Leia.


End file.
